Finger Painting
by imaninja41
Summary: I had a decent life, I had family, friends, and a promising career. It's my death that I'll complain about. Or rather, the fact I'm not dead. Why aren't I dead? I got shot in the heart, I fell, I died! So why am I still walking around like a ghost, why can't anybody hear me, and who is this Frost guy? On top of that, my nightmares were real. Can I just die already? T for language
1. High School

**My oc Callisto's picture is on photobucket, just go to my profile, the link is there. She's super cool, just check her out, please!**

"Callisto!"

I looked up from my canvas, glaring at Jennifer, before turning back to my painting, adding my black to the background, "Sup?"

"Sup? Sup!?" _Here we go again._ "How can you say 'Sup?' as if nothing's happened at all?"

"Because nothing _has _happened Jen." I mumbled.

"Ryan asked you out, and you said _no_!" Jennifer ranted, "How do you turn down a guy like that!? I mean, he's totally hot, he's unbelievably charming, and-"

"He's a douche." I finished, washing the acrylic paint off my fan brush and taking out a smaller brush, coating it in midnight blue.

"He is not!" Jennifer gasped, "Every girl in school wants to date him! And may I remind you that your last relationship ended four months ago? You need to get back on the horse girl, and as your best friend-"

"Morgan is my best friend." I sighed, splattering the blue paint against the black.

"Morgan isn't the one helping you right now!"

"She's helping me by keeping her nose out of my love life." I stressed, "Look, I've only dated one guy before, and to be honest, yeah, it was a nice feeling-"

"Don't you want that again?"

"_But_. The first few dates were totally awkward, meeting his family was awkward, the break up was awkward, and I'm never going through that again." I snapped, "I've made my decision, no more boys. I'm completely and totally abstinent. No more dating, no more kissing, and no more frenching."

She stared at me, before squealing in glee, "Ee! You frenched him!?"

I rinsed that brush off as well, "Yeah. A few times."

"Why didn't you ever tell me!? Stepping stone! I needed to help you through it!"

"Because something like that is private." I growled, "And I'm not so proud about where I did it."

She paused, "Where?"

I paused, staring at the black canvas with random blue splatters, "It's… missing something."

Jennifer shook me, "Come on girl, where did you French him?"

I shook her hand off, "In a church! Okay? I know, I know, I'm going to hell for that one."

Jennifer smiled, "Well, looks like Callisto just turned into Callist-ho!"

"Oh, ha, ha, freaking ha." I said, rolling my eyes, "Now listen, I've got more things to worry about other than starting a new relationship, when I sucked at my last one. I'm just not good at being a girlfriend, okay? I mean, I forgot his birthday! I could never feel comfortable around him. What I had with Jason was fun, but it's _never _happening again. Now are you going to help me with my real problem or not?"

Jennifer huffed, "Alright, what's your so called problem."

I gestured to my painting, "Something's missing, help me figure it out."

She finally stepped around, looking at my painting, "Huh, an abstract?"

"I'm not sure." I mumbled, "It could just be a dramatic background, or maybe I messed up completely with what I was supposed to draw. Help me out here."

Jennifer never really shared my passion for art, but she had raw talent. Something I had as well, but the difference is, I used mine, molded it, and tempered it into the greatest artistic sense that this high school has ever seen. I had more artistic talent than our art teacher, which is why I take my art courses at the community college.

Jennifer had never been interested in my kind of art, she said it was to messy. She was a fashionista, and a really good one. She had a way of wearing clothes that made everything look good. She could wear spots with plaid and it would look cool.

Jennifer snapped her fingers, "I've got it! It needs to have an observer, in the scene."

I looked at the painting as well, "Someone watching the blue streaks?"

She nodded, "Yeah, but I don't know who."

I frowned, "Not who, what."

I grabbed a detail brush, dipping it in midnight blue, and outlined the head of a crow in the corner, angling it so it watched the blue streaks against the blackness. I used grey on the beak, and then dabbed a white oval for the eyes. I waited for it to dry, and then used yellow for the iris, drawing a black pupil like a human eye.

Jennifer nodded, "Yeah, that's perfect!"

She picked up my sketch book, flipping through it, "So what have you been working on?"

"You shouldn't look at those." I warned, "They're depressing, for you."

She scowled at a pencil sketch of a butterfly with a torn wing, and turned the page to see a portrait I had done of a hobo who lived on my street corner, sometimes. I paid him thirty dollars to pose for me. Pretty sure he spent it at a liquor store, but I didn't really care.

She turned the next page, a little boy with a bloody nose and a big black eye. "Callisto! Why are you so… emo!?"

I looked down at my clothes, denim jeans with the cuffs rolled up to right above my ankles, and a black t-shirt that said NEW YORK CITY in white letters with neon paint splattered all over it. I had down the neon paint myself. I shrugged, "I don't feel emo."

She rolled her eyes, "Wear a _skirt _one day, will you!? Or some really cute cut offs, or skinny jeans. Yes! Skinny jeans, pink ones! With some cute rhinestones on the back pocket-"

"NEVER!" I shouted defiantly, packing my art supplies away as me and Jennifer headed back into the hallway.

She rolled her eyes, "My wisdom falls upon deaf ears, such is the price of my knowledge. Seriously, I know that drawing something deep is healthy every now and then, but this much depression, it's not good for you. You need to try to appeal to the upbeat population."

I shook my head, grabbing my painting, "No, Jennifer, I don't. We've always preached to different crowds. You're all about the popularity, and me, I give the forgotten a second glance."

She paused, "That would make a really poetic title."

"Thanks." I mumbled. "You still don't really get it-'

She gasped, "Oh my God, Ryan is coming, hide!"

I frowned, "Why? I turned him down politely, he shouldn't be-"

"Hey Jennifer." Ryan said, walking up to her.

She blushed, "Uh, hi…"

Ryan smiled at her, "Look, my weekend just opened up, and I've got reservations at this great pizza joint, for two. Wanna come?"

Jennifer paused, looking at me, "Uh-"

"Say yes." I ordered, "You've been crushing on him since grade school."

She turned beet red, "Callisto!"

Ryan laughed, "Hey, I'm flattered. So, a date?"

Jennifer nodded, "Uh, yeah, I guess so."

"Pick you up on Friday, at eight." Ryan walked away.

Jennifer stood frozen for a moment, before launching into action, "I have so much to plan for! I mean, should I wear a hat, or not hat? Err, no hat. A scarf then? Or maybe a big necklace… I don't know!"

I rolled my eyes for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that day. Honestly, I've been friends with Jennifer since kindergarten, and I love her to death, but I have no idea what her mental issues extend to. She's the prettiest girl in school, her long, blonde, wavy hair and warm brown eyes rope guys in easily. She shouldn't have to worry about her looks. Much less what she'll wear to a date. She could wear a moldy flower sack and look fabulous.

Of course, she wouldn't wear a flower sack. She's probably show up in a pretty dress, with leggings, and a jacket and she bought in totally different stores, but on her, they would look like they were made to fit.

I would never wear anything like that. On all the dates I ever went on, with the only boyfriend I ever had, I just wore jeans and a t-shirt. Sometimes a jacket, or a hat, but never anything more.

Suddenly Jennifer grabbed my arm, "Callisto?"

I looked over my shoulder, "Hmm?"

She was still holding my sketchbook, looking at a picture drawn only with black and grey oil pastels, of a dark place. Stone passages and arches lined the background, a maze of endless darkness. In the corner stood one figure, the only thing that was pure black. He was staring straight at me through the picture.

I took the book from Jennifer, slapping it shut, "Gotta go Jenny, see ya Monday!"

I took off as fast as I could, barley paying attention to her farewell. I remember that picture, and the nightmares so well. Jennifer shouldn't have to see my demons.

No one needed to see Pitch Black.


	2. Colledge

My apartment was small, or as my mom would have called it, cozy. But at least I didn't have to share it with a stranger. The art school I had wanted to go to was to far away from home to drive everyday. So for my last year of high school, since I was eighteen, I moved right next door to the art school I wanted to attend, while still going to my high school. I had to leave a lot of my friends behind, but the ever loyal Jennifer convinced her parents to let her come too, so we roomed together, and she actually found a small time designing job in town.

I interned at an art museum in town, I was pretty much just a secretary who also got everyone's coffee, but it was a start.

I tossed my back pack on my twin bed, before setting the fresh canvas my smaller easel, for it to dry. I turned to the bigger easel, the large canvas that sat there was still blank, I hadn't been able to figure out what to paint on that one.

Jennifer suddenly walked into our door, "Callisto? You find out what you're going to put on that one?"

I frowned at the canvas, one thing I had learned from an early age is that painting what _you _wanted to paint on a canvas hardly ever worked. I had always been able to listen to the paint and the canvas, as they told me what to do. It was all about what the canvas wanted, not what I wanted.

When someone paints a picture, they don't _make _anything. As an artist, I don't make things, I find them. The image is already on the canvas, I just have to show everyone else what's there.

"Love." I said, "This painting is about love."

Jennifer Squealed, "Ee! You're gonna be in love!"

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever Jenny, look, I've gotta get going, so you're on your own for tonight."

She plopped down on her bed, taking out her pink nail polish, "Well, where are you heading to?"

"I'm going scouting." I mumbled, pulling on my grey hoodie, grabbing my bag, and walking out the door.

"Have fun with your depression." She said, waving as I left.

Scouting was when I walked the streets, looking for people or scenes to draw. I would sketch pictures of street kids, playing a game in their filthy clothes. Hobo's standing around a trashcan fire. Dogs fighting over food.

I didn't paint pretty things, I painted the truth. I painted what people wanted to forget, so they no one would forget.

My scouting would usually take all night, considering it was Friday. Walking the streets all night seemed to be a better option than going to sleep. Pitch would be waiting if I went to sleep.

So I walked the streets, watching people go by until I saw an abandoned apartment building. It's windows were boarded up, and mold grew on the bricks. It was ugly, and I wanted to make it beautiful. I set my bag down, pulling out a folded easel, and oil pastels. I set the easel up, and placed my sketch pad on it.

I took out my paints, squirting out dark green, several browns, a little red, and black. I put one headphone in, and turned my Ipod to shuffle. As I started to outline the building, two kids ran up to watch. As I colored the walls brown and red, one of them walked closer, comparing my drawing to the original.

"That's pretty good." He said, smiling at me as he straightened his scarf.

I grunted, shadowing one corner. I looked back up at the building to get another glance, then returned to my painting with a newfound fury. My brush danced across the canvas, mixing the green in to show the molded bricks. The other kid tugged on the first one's jacket sleeve, "Come on Jamie, let's go."

He shook his head, "You go ahead, I'll come play later."

"But what if Jack's there?"

Jamie shrugged, "Just tell him where I am, and that I'll be there soon."

I was used to people watching as I did this, but they usually weren't kids. Kids didn't stick around to see the ending, they didn't have the patience.

Jamie, however, was mostly silent as I worked. I finished the building, and started on the background, going with a midnight sky, and no stars or moon. Then I drew the street in front of the building, and the silhouette of the buildings next to it. My hands worked by themselves, rushing over the canvas of their own accord. I didn't even know what I was doing as I painted. I just let instinct take over.

Jamie sucked in a breath, "Whoa, it looks almost… 3D! How long have you been doing this?"

"How old are you?" I asked.

Jamie stared at me, "Uh, eight, why-"

"About your age then." I answered.

"How old are you?" He asked.

"Eighteen. So ten years." I said, staring at my painting, "It's missing something. Why is it _always _missing something?"

Jamie stared at me a moment, before shrugging, "I guess because you can't fit the whole world on one canvas."

I looked down at him, fiddling with my paintbrush. Jamie continued, "You're an artist right? You could paint your whole life, and you wouldn't be able to paint half of the things you wanted to, not nearly all you need to."

"Kid." I said, "That is the most accurate description of an artist's life I have ever heard. I could paint, and paint, and paint, but I would never be able to capture all the beauty on earth."

Jamie nodded, "Must be a burden."

"You're pretty smart kid." I mumbled. "But still, painting is missing something, You're so smart, help me figure it out."

Jamie turned away from my painting, looking down the street, eyes wide, as if he was watching someone run towards him. I looked, but I didn't see anything. I sighed, putting my brushes away, I wasn't figuring it out anytime soon.

"Jamie?"

He cleared his throat, "Uh, sorry, I think the painting is fine."

I shook my head, "No, it definitely needs-"

"Jack, don't!" Jamie whispered.

"What?" I asked.

Jamie was staring up at the building.

I looked up as well, and gasped. It was snowing. Tiny snow flakes fell from the sky, dotting the street. Jamie groaned, "I'm sorry about the snow, I-"

"That's perfect!" I shouted, grabbing the white paint container, and dipping my fingers into it. I didn't want to have to dig my brushed out again.

"What are you doing?" Jamie asked as I ran my fingers along the painting. I painted white piles of fluffy snow on the rooftop and window sills, and then frowned.

Jamie raised an eyebrow, "What now?"

"It doesn't look like it's falling." I said, "It has to be falling."

I rubbed my white coated fingers together, mixing the paint well, before flicking my fingers at the painting. Tine white specs dotting it in random places, looking like snow flakes. "There."

Jamie smiled, "Wow, it does look like it's falling!"

I nodded, "That's what was missing, it was to dark. It needed a bright contrast, to sharpen it."

Jamie seemed to not be listening, staring off into space a little higher than my head, "Well, _I _think she's cool."

I frowned at him, "Who are you talking to?"

"Uh… Jack Frost."

Oh, right, he's a kid. "Well, thank him for the snow. If he hadn't come along, this painting would have looked like something out of a Stephen King novel."

Jamie pointed to a corner of my painting, "Hey, what's that?"

I followed his finger, and immediately saw the problem. At the edge of the building, halfway into the alley, was a dark spot. The longer I stared at that spot, the more it looked like a man. A familiar man. I ran a finger through my short, spiky, red hair, white paint dripping into it. "I… don't remember painting that."

It suddenly hit me, the figure was Pitch. The boogey man that had haunted my dreams since I was a kid. The boogey man I had told to leave me alone, and had tried to ignore for years. The reason I had started painting.

"Stay here." I told Jamie, running into the alley. The minute I entered the alley, I knew it was a mistake. _**I told you to never ignore me.**_

Three men stood in the alley, a shady feeling over all of them. They looked up at me, smiling, "Hey little girl."

"Oh hell." I mumbled.

"Jack." I looked behind me, seeing Jamie standing there, fear all over his face.

"I told you to wait by my painting!" I hissed.

He shook with fear as the men drew closer. "I'm sorry."

I stepped in-between Jamie and the men, "Me too kid."

"Ya want me ta buy you a bear darlin?" One of the men asked. I could smell the alcohol on him from where I stood, eight feet away from him.

I had a feeling my kickboxing classes wouldn't do me any good against three men. One man, maybe, if I was fast enough. To men, if I didn't have a kid with me, I might be able to take them. But there is a kid with me, eight years old."

"I'm under aged." I snapped, "And I'm pretty sure you've had to many already."

The men stepped closer, "That's not nice. But you know what would be nice?" One of the men took out a gun, and Jamie gasped. I backed up slowly as Jamie clung to my waist "A little lovin, think you can do it babe?"

"Come on, I've got a kid with me!" I snapped. This was hardly the first time I had to face something like this, but I had always been able to run before. I couldn't know, Jamie wouldn't be able to keep up.

"I'm scared." Jamie whispered, but it sounded like he wasn't talking to me. Didn't stop me from answering.

"Don't be scared." I ordered, "Jamie, you're going to be fine, understand?" My tone left no room for argument.

He nodded, tears running down his cheeks as the men got even closer

"Just close your eyes, and imagine you're somewhere else." That always helped me when I was younger. When my mother would come home drunk off her ass, and her boyfriends would get loud. "Somewhere safe. Got it?"

Jamie nodded, closing his eyes and sobbing.

"Good." I mumbled. "Just keep your eyes closed, no matter what you hear, or what happens."

The man pointed his gun at me. "Still a no, babe?"

I glared at him, "Why don't you take your ugly ass home, you cheap, disgusting, rapist, sack of shit."

His finger tightened on the trigger, and I saw my chance.

I ducked under his arm, grabbing his wrist, and shooting my elbow into his neck in a stabbing motion. He hit the ground, gasping for breath, and I gripped his gun barrel, twisting it around viscously as his fingers snapped. The two other men rushed forward, so I yanked the gun away, pointing it at them, but they both slipped over ice, falling to the ground. I looked down at the gun, it had been on safety this whole time.

I snorted, looking down at the first man, "You really shouldn't play with guns while you're drunk."

I took it off of safety, firing a shot into the air. Jamie flinched, "What's going on!?"

"Just keep your eyes closed kid." I ordered, aiming the gun down at the first man, "You _really _don't want to see this." _**Like you didn't want to see your nightmares? Didn't want to see me?**_

I sighed, "Damn, you really know how to lay on the guilt, huh, Pitch?"

Cold wind swept me face, snowflakes hitting my nose. Suddenly, the first man knocked my feet out from under me, and I hit the icy ground hard. He got on top of me, wrestling the gun away from me, "You little bitch, I oughta-"

A snow ball hit his face, and he tumbled off of me. I stood up, but his two friends shoved me backwards, knocking me into Jamie. Jamie grunted, opening his eyes as we hit the ground.

I stood up quickly, pulling Jamie up as well. I whispered to him, "When I say now, I want you to run as fast as you can away from here. The police station is two blocks from here, okay?"

He nodded, sobbing, "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Just pretend that you're running in a race okay? The winner get's a lifetime supply of candy bars." I instructed, trying not to think about what would happen to me once Jamie ran.

He nodded again, "But what about you?"

"Don't look back." I ordered, he was the one who should live from this, he was the kid.

"Are you gonna run with me?" Jamie whimpered.

"After I get my painting." I lied.

The man pointed his gun at me, "Run!"

Jamie took of running, and the man jerked to shoot at Jamie as he ran, but I jumped in the way, taking the bullet.

I hit the ground, feeling the immediately, fiery paint tore through me chest. I grabbed my wound as I hit the ground.

The men ran as warm blood leaked through my fingers. As the blood drained from me, it got colder, and colder.

My breaths got slower, and I grimaced at the agonizing pain. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine myself at a place far away from here. I resorted to one of the few good memories of my childhood I have. Christmas when I was six.

My mother hadn't drank that night, so we had sat in front of our tiny Christmas tree, and she had sang Christmas carols as I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes, deciding that being found with my eyes closed would make me seem cowardly. I wanted someone to tell my mother 'She wasn't scared, she faced the world when she died.'

But someone was here. A teenage boy, about my age. He had a blue hoodie and brown pants. His skin was as white a snow, and so was his hair, but his eyes were the brightest blue I had ever seen. An angel?

He was crying as he leaned over me, "I'm sorry." He whispered, "I didn't think he would get back up, I thought he was out of it. I'm so sorry."

A guardian angel then? "My fault." I told him, "Not yours."

His eyes widened as he wiped away his tears on his blue hoodie. "You, can you see me?"

I nodded, and then the cold overwhelmed me, and I saw nothing but blackness. Pitch blackness.


	3. Death

It was dark, and it was silent. I had never really minded the color black, even after Pitch had tormented me in my sleep. To me, it was just a color. But this darkness wasn't black, it was… just a lack of color. And that bothered me. I needed color.

But before I could even contemplate that need, the darkness started to vanish. It got brighter, but not much. It was dark out, and from the looks of things, midnight. The first thing I see is the moon, right above the two building's I'm laying between. It's big, and bright, and beautiful. The first thing that comes to my mind is to paint it, but before I can even consider what size of canvas to use, I hear a voice. I don't know why, but for some reason, I _know _it's from the moon. _Callisto Acrylic_

That's my name. No, that's not my name! Well, Callisto is, but where did the Acrylic come from!? But there's no arguing with the moon. If it says that's my name, then that's my name.

I stand up, and notice that I'm in an alley. For some reason, it's really familiar too. I walk around it a little, trying to see why it is, but all I can gather is, it's a crime scene.

I can see blood on the ground, and lots of it. The whole area is roped off by crime tape. Oh snap! I better get outta here before I get arrested.

I can see several officers standing by the crime tape, sneaking around them is nearly impossible, but I can try it anyway.

I slip out the side of the alley, careful to keep my hood up and head low. I can see my art supplies being loaded into a police van, and driven away towards my apartment.

"Hey!" I shouted, rushing after the van, "That's my stuff! Slow down!"

But no one hears me, not even the police turn to look. I knew that most police were stuck up and snobbish, but that's carrying it a bit far.

I turned to one of the policemen, "Hey, that van just took my stuff!"

He kept talking, ignoring me, "Victim's name was Callisto Dermot Carlton, the kid who witnessed it says she didn't panic or anything, she was protecting him the whole time."

The officer he was talking to, a woman, shook her head sadly, "None of this should have happened, what kind of parent just let's their kids come out at night?"

The first officer sighed, "Well, this Callisto girl goes to art school nearby. Her roommate Jennifer, said she was out scouting for things to paint, said she did it all the time. Jamie, the witness, said his mother let him go out to the park a lot. That's where he was headed until he saw her painting, and wanted to watch."

"The park? At night!? I would never let my son do that." The woman growled, "Why can't people just be better parents?"

The first officer stared at her, "Yeah, you're not talking to the witness. Or his parents."

I back up, falling on my ass, images flooding my head. Painting, right next to Jamie. Seeing Pitch in the alley way, kind of. Running into the alley, the three men, the gun, the fight, the bullet.

I reach for my chest, looking down at where the bullet had gone, but I don't see it. There's nothing there. I jumped back up, "No! I'm alive! I'm alive damn it!"

I grab the police officer, but my hand goes right through him. The minute it does, there's a sharp pain inside of me, like being punched in the gut. I back up, holding my arm, gasping at what had just happened. I stared down at my hands, shivering. Was this death?

No! I can't be dead, I just can't be!

I turn away from the crime scene, running down the street until I got to my apartment building. I ran up the stairs, and flung my door open. There was Jennifer, sitting on the bed and crying in front of two policemen, "She just, she just went out scouting. She did it all the time. Why did they kill her?"

"Bases on the boy's story, the men were trying to, uh, force her into sexual actions."

Jennifer sobbed, "Did, did they?"

"No, from what we can gather, she never gave up fighting. Her last stand was protecting a young boy from a gun shot."

Jennifer nodded, "That, that really sounds like her. She always loved kids, hardly ever hung out with anyone her own age."

"Do you know how we could reach her parents? Namely, her mother?"

Jennifer scoffed, "Even if you could, her mother wouldn't care. That woman was a complete bitch to Callisto, even when she was a kid."

"Was there a history of abuse?"

Jennifer sighed, "Nothing physical, from her mother anyway. Jennifer never told anyone, but when her mother passed out drunk, some of her mom's boyfriends would hit her."

"Well, can you get us into contact with her mother? We're required by law to tell her."

Jennifer nodded, "Oh, sure. I have her phone number in Callisto's address book." Jennifer picked up my address book from my bedside table, but then paused, "Can you tell me, was she found with her eyes closed?"

"No, her eyes were open when we found her."

Jennifer nodded, "When you talk to her mother, tell her that. Tell her she stared right back at the world when she died. That she wasn't afraid."

I took in a shaky breath, "_Thank you _Jennifer. Thank you _so _much."

Jennifer had never been a perfect friend. We had never seen eye to eye on a lot of things, namely romance. She had always tried to set me up with guys, ones I was never interested in. But the minute someone tried to come at me, Jennifer was always there, she always had my back, regardless of my issues. My anger issues, trust issues, and insomnia. When I woke up screaming, she used to help me through it, but upon my request, she ignored me, so I wouldn't feel so… weak.

I stayed in my apartment until the police left, just staring at Jennifer as she cried. I tried to touch her, but found I couldn't.

"What kind of death is this?" I mumbled, looking around my apartment. Actually, it wasn't mine anymore. It was just Jennifer's. Jennifer couldn't afford the rent, she'd get a new roommate, or move out.

I walked over yo my bed, noticing the things the police had left. My backpack, with all my paints in it, my brushed, a few canvases, and my folding easel. They has brought the painting I had been working on too, the paint now dry.

I waited until Jennifer fell asleep, at about three in the morning, and then fell down on my own bed. "This… this sucks." I mumbled, running my fingers through my hair.

I pulled them away, suddenly feeling wet clumps in my hair. I stared at my fingers, blue paint coated them. Oh yeah, I had gotten paint in my hair last night-

But it hadn't been blue. I had finger painted white snow on my canvas, I hadn't used any blue. I wiped my hands on my jeans, and then turned to the canvas set up from yesterday. I had told Jennifer that this canvas was about love.

I had to do one last thing for Jennifer, finish this painting.

So I grabbed my back pack, put all my art supplies in it, all my smaller canvases, and my folding easel. I looked down at my clothes, my now paint stained wrangler jeans, with the cuffs rolled up right above my ankles, my black NEW YORK CITY t-shirt shirt, and my grey hoodie with sleeves stopping above my elbows. I've had these clothes since highs cool, and I never got to big for them. Guess that's what I get for being a ginger midget.

I grabbed the larger canvas, and left. I just walked, and walked and walked down the streets until the sun rose. Wondering what the hell I was supposed to do.


	4. What's The Point?

As I walked down the streets, I couldn't help but catch my reflection in the shop windows. I nearly screamed when I saw myself. My hair was still red, but all the gel I had used to spike it before was gone. Nevertheless, my hair still stood on ends, sticking out in tufts, looking cooler than anything I had ever been able to do to it. White and blue paint were still visible in my hair from finger painting the snow, and wherever the blue paint had come from.

My skin was the same, pale with a light tan because of my half Asian mother. But I just looked different. I looked, brighter, if that made any since. My hair was redder, my freckled standing out eve more on my skin, and the paint on my hair and jeans brighter as well. It was my eyes that really freaked me out.

My eyes were yellow.

As yellow as Pitch's are.

It was because of my own eyes I had decided to _never _sleep again. Pitch would have a field day with them.

Three days past, and I found I didn't have to sleep anyways. I'm not sure if I could, but I certainly knew I wasn't going to. I didn't have to eat either, which was also a plus.

Finding Jamie's house wasn't that hard, the police still had his file out, and the address was pretty close to my apartment actually. What was hard was seeing him moping around his living room, still shaken from what had happened the night before.

I kind of just… slipped into his house. Just opened the door and walked in. His head jerked up, staring at the open door, "Jack?"

He was still talking to Jack Frost. Brilliant.

Jamie sat back down, apparently not seeing Jack Frost, and I snuck up the stairs, peeking into every room until I finally came to one that looked like his. Several pictures covered the walls, for his age, the art was pretty good.

I set the canvas down on his bed. I just couldn't let the kid live thinking someone died because of him. Even if he hadn't been there, I would have eventually seen the Pitch like figure in my painting, and gone into the alley anyways. And there's no guarantee I would have come out.

So I took out black paint and a detail brush from my bag to write my name on the corner. He must have learned my name when they were questioning him. Right?

But the minute I tried to take a brush to the canvas, it just felt _wrong_. The most disgusting feeling I've ever had. I can't even describe it. It wasn't painful it was just… _bad_. Brushes were bad!

I dropped the brush, and it fell onto his bed spread, the black paint staining his blanket. I didn't care, I was _dead_!

So I let instinct take over, and I started to dip my finger into the black paint tube, it felt wrong too. I pulled my hand back, staring down at my fingers, and gasped. Black paint was coming out of my index finger.

I wiped it away on my jeans, and then stared at my finger again, trying to get paint to come out. _Come on, black!_

Black paint seeped out of my pores, trickling over my index finger. Well this certainly explained the blue paint in my hair. I took in a deep breath, and then took my finger to the canvas, spelling out Callisto. As an after thought, I added Acrylic to the end, and I pulled back to admire my work.

The name had thin letters, much to thin to look like I had made them with my finger. It looked like I _had _used a detail brush. And the paint dried instantly, it didn't stay wet.

I looked down at my now paint less finger. _Green._

Green paint immediately seeped out of my pores, coating my finger. I quickly wiped it away. "Man, that's creepy, and cool at the same time."

Is this what I'm supposed to do? Paint?

Hell, I can do that! But I won't be needing any of this. I set my bag down and pulled the canvases, paint, folding easel, and brushes out, laying them all on Jamie's desk. He should keep practicing art work, he could be a professional artist one day.

I kept my bag, not wanting to lose it, because I've practically _lived _out of this bag since high school. So I threw my now empty bag over my shoulder, giving one last look around. I left Jamie's house, hoping that when he saw the canvas, he'd believe, somehow, I was alive, despite what the police must have told him.

**JAMIE'S POINT OF VIEW:**

"Time for bed Jamie." My mom said gently.

"Okay." I whispered, walking up to my room, and then freezing in the doorway. Why was there so much art supplies in my room? I didn't own an easel, or any paints except water color. And I've _never _painted any kind of canvas.

My gaze went from my desk to my bed. I walked over, picking up an already painted canvas, and nearly screamed. It was Callisto's painting from last night. It was even signed- Wait. She didn't sign it last night, she didn't have time. But who would copy her signature, and then leave all her art stuff in my room?

I ran my thumb over her signature, "Callisto Acrylic?"

_Tap, tap, tap!_

I jumped, looking over a the window to see Jack sitting there. I rushed over, yanking it open, and he floated inside, landing on my bed, "Hey kid, you holding up alright?"

I gulped, "Uh, yeah. Hey, Jack? If I died… could I come back to life?"

Jack raised an eyebrow, "Uh, well, I died, and I came back, but that doesn't happen to everybody."

"Why did you came back?"

"The man in the moon chose me. We just call him Manny." Jack shrugged.

"Why did he chose you?" I pried. I had to find out why Callisto wasn't dead.

Jack was quiet for a moment, "I died saving my sister. I like to think he chose me because, well, I've always been a guardian. Looking out for kids."

"So, if someone else were to die saving a kid, Manny might chose them?"

Jack stared at me, "Jamie, were is this coming from."

I held up the canvas, "Look."

Jack stared at the painting, eventually reaching over, and taking it from me, holding it up to the light to see it. "Well, what do you think this is?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, "I think she's still alive."

Jack just said, "Hmm."

I balled my hands into fists, "Jack, she died saving me, and Manny chose her!"

Jack laid the painting on my bed, "I'll ask North about it." He picked me up, putting me in bed, "Just get some sleep, okay Jamie? You've been through a lot, and whatever's going on, we'll deal with it."

I sighed, rolling over in bed, "Okay Jack."

**WITH JACK:**

I flew to the North pole as fast as I could, past Phil, and into North's office. "North!"

He looked up from his desk, "Jack!? Vat is wrong?"

I dropped down, panting for breath, "North, if Manny chose someone else, not to be a guardian, but just a spirit, how would we know?"

North stared at me, "Vell, ve vouldn't. Not at first, but eventually, ve run into zem. Zen, ve tell zem what zey are, and zey go on from zere, trying to figure out vat Manny chose zem for."

**WITH CALLISTO:**

I stared down at my fingers, then up at the side of the apartment I had tried to paint last night. The crime scene tape had been stripped away, and everything looked fine. But I could still see my blood stains on the concrete.

"Come on." I mumbled, "What am I supposed to do?"

_Just relax. It's a canvas, figure out what it want's to be painted._ I tell myself. I closed my eyes, trying to picture what would look good on this wall.

The moment the image popped into my head, an instinct took over. I saw all the colors I needed, I saw where they needed to be, where to start, what to _feel_. Without even thinking about it, different shades of blue came out of my fingers, and I set to work.

I hadn't finger painted in awhile, but I quickly remembered how fun it was! I could mix colors easily, blend them exactly how I wanted. All the blues, and grays, and greens merged together, while staying completely apart.

I had finished what I needed to do eye level, but getting up top was going to be hard. Last time I checked, people didn't really leave ladders laying around. _Just reach up._

I did, and the minute I leaned upwards, I started floating!

I gasped, wobbling around in the air, I was flying! I could fly! _Picture where you want to go._

I closed my eyes, thinking about the top of the wall. I wanted to start drawing the sea foam. I was instantly floating there, not very fast, but fast enough. I stretched out my fingers, using my new found flying to cover the whole wall in my finger paints.

Before long, I was done, and I stepped back to admire my work.

I ha painted ocean waves, crashing one right after the other, foaming and churning to the point where it nearly looked real. It was the best artwork I've ever done.

Seagulls drifted at the top, and there were darker spots in the waves that could be the shadows of fish.

I sat there, staring at my painting. This is what I'm supposed to do? I guess it's not so bad, I don't have to sleep so there's no more Pitch, and I get to paint forever! It's great, it really is. But what's the point in it?


	5. My Purpose

I just sat staring at that painting all night. I had eventually added my signature to it, Callisto Acrylic. And then I just when right back to staring at it, wondering why I was here, what the odd powers meant, until a small voice broke me out of it.

"Wow, mommy look! Look at the pretty painting!" A little girl laughed, pointing at my picture.

Her mother nodded, "Wow, normally I don't like the thought of teenagers spray painting buildings, but this is, by far, the best ocean painting I've ever seen. Whatever kid did that has real talent."

The little girl wasn't even listening. "Look mommy, look!"

She rushed over to my painting, standing next to the wall and leaning forward so it looked like she was surfing without a board, "I'm in the water mommy!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed. Even if my abilities only brought me confusion, they made kids happy.

After the little girl left, a bunch of little boys came along, and they were just as excited about the painting. They jumped through imaginary waves, pretending to swim with dolphins, win surf contests, and my personal favorite statement 'Bring the corrupt oil company to justice!'.

Eventually, all the kids fell down, exhausted from playing next to my painting. One of them looked up at the painting again, "Huh, Callisto Acrylic? You think she's some new graffiti artist?"

Another boy piped up, "Yeah, she's a rebel! A graffiti painter is always a rebel! She's rebelling against our government and their lies, against our parents, and again school!"

The other kids stared at him, and I laughed, "Kid, you're growing up to fast! The teenager years will come on their own, trust me."

The first boy looked back at my artwork, "Do you think Acrylic is going to paint more?"

"I hope so!"

"Hey, maybe next time, she can paint something cooler! Like, uh, a jet!"

I sighed, "Never been to good at planes kid, but maybe I'll give it a shot."

"You've gotta admit, this girl has talent! I wish our park had cool stuff like this."

My eyes widened, "A park, huh?"

I left my painting in the alley, following the boys to the park to see what was so bad about it. The minute I set foot, I understood.

It was January, so everything was covered in snow, but under that snow, everything kind of… sucked. The playground equipment was old and the paint was nearly chipped all away. Well, I know what I'm doing tonight.

**WITH JACK:**

North stood in front of his globe, looking up through the skylight at Manny, "Is it possible? Have you chosen another spirit? Why, my friend?"

I cleared my throat, "Uh, North? He rarely ever talks to us, why would he now?"

North laughed, "It vas rhetorical."

"Oh." I mumbled. "So, how do we track this girl down, if she is a spirit?"

North shook his head, "Jack, ve all go through ze change by ourselves. Some of us get frightened, others angry, and some even rebellious. But ve get over it on our own, and ve find a purpose. You brought joy to children. If zis girl is truly a spirit, she must find her center, on her own."

I frowned, "But, if someone is there for her, wouldn't that be-"

North interrupted me, "Jack, I guarantee you, it is best to just leave alone."

"Fine." I grumbled.

**WITH CALLISTO:**

I looked up from my painting, staring at the sight behind me, not fully believing it. Golden animals were parading down the street. Huge dinosaurs, dolphins, sting rays, any kind of animal you could think of. They were all connected by golden, sandy trails of sand going up to one image in the sky, a golden airplane.

I snapped out of it, before slowly walking towards, the giant animal ands trails of sand, "Wow."

I stared up at the golden airplane, this was impossible. But hey, so was my finger painting. I shook my nerves away, and leaned upwards, floating up to the plane rather quickly. I peeked over the edge, looking inside to see a tiny little man , made of the golden sand.

He didn't notice me at first, then he caught sight of me when he turned around, and stumbled back, dropping a little of his sand.

I floated back a little, did he see me? He could see me! Oh my God, he could see me.

I ducked under the side of the plane, whispering, "He can see me?"

I felt a tap on my head, and I looked up, seeing the little man smiling down at me, then gesturing for me to come back up.

I swallowed my fear, creeping up the side of the plane until I faced him head on.

Images appeared above his head, a tiny picture of him, then a pile of sand, then the sign for men. I paused for a moment, and then he repeated the signs, "Uh, Sand… man? Sand man!"

He nodded enthusiastically, then gestured to me. "Oh, me. Uh, Callisto. Callisto Acrylic, I… guess."

He paused, then pictures appeared again, the word re, then the image of a pregnant women, then a calendar. "Re… uh, I really hope that one means birth?"

He nodded, rolling his eyes. "And then… a date? Rebirth, you mean when I turned into, whatever this is?" He nodded again. "Uh, like, two days ago?"

He looked at me sympathetically, and then reached out a small, sandy hand, patting my shoulder.

I smiled, "Thanks."

He gestured to himself, then to all his sand figures, then to me, and a small question mark forming above his head. "What can I do?" I felt a grin spread across my face, before holding up my fingers, showing them stained with paint, "Let's just say I'm an enthusiastic graffiti artist."

He formed another question mark.

"Uh, paint comes out of my fingers, and then I paint stuff."

He paused, and then used sand to form a flat square, gesturing to my fingers, then the square. "You want me to paint that?"

He nodded, and I shrugged, wondering what to paint, and them smiled, _green._

Several shades of green seeped out of my fingers, and I took to the canvas, mixing greens and blues, and gold. When I pulled my fingers away, there was a forest, with golden sand weaving in and out of the trees, and in the middle stood Sandman, arms above his head.

Sandman smiled at the picture, clapping his hands in glee. He made more images above his head, me, then children around me.

"Kids? Yeah, kids like my paintings, but… wait, are you saying that's what it's all about!? Kids!? That's what I'm supposed to sue this life for? But, none of them see me." I said sadly.

Sandman smiled at me, then a watch formed around his wrist, and he tapped it.

I smiled back at him, "It takes time, huh?"

He nodded, and then floated up until we were eye to eye, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.

I hugged him back, "Thanks Sandman."

He told me a lot of other things too, that Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Jack Frost, they were all guardians. It was their job to protect the children of the world, give them joy, make them believe. He told me if I kept my eyes open, I would see them. He showed my pictures of the guardian with his sand, pointing to the different colors on my fingers and clothes that they were. To my surprise, the Easter Bunny wasn't pink.

I finally figured out what I was supposed to do with my life now. I had to make kids happy. With more ambition than ever, I returned to the playground.

**WITH JAMIE:**

I followed my friends as they walked in front of me, laughing, talking about snowball fights and hide and seek. Claude spoke up, "Snowball fights at the playground? You know I've gotta be there. I just don't want winter to be over yet. The minute it is, we're just back to a boring old playground."

His brother Caleb nodded, "Yeah, can't we get a petition or something to get it painted?"

Claude shook his head, "Who's gonna listen to a petition from a bunch of kids?"

They suddenly stopped talking, and Jamie ran into them. "Ouch, hey, why'd you stop walking?"

"Dude." Claude said.

"Look." Caleb pointed.

Jamie looked at the playground, and his jaw fell slack. This couldn't be his playground.

The snow that had started to melt had been cleared away from the larger equipment, but pushed up around the swing sets so if you jumped off you would land softly. The ground was still cold, but dry. And the equipment had been painted over as well.

The carousel had been painted a dark blue, with snow flakes dancing over the handles. Mixed shades of blue made it look like a night sky, and no two snowflakes on it were alike.

The swings had been painted bright greens, blues, and pinks swirling around the poles, with tiny images of fairies as well. Tooth fairies.

The slide had Easter eggs all down the side, and if you looked behind it, there was a tiny rabbit painted on the back, hiding behind a painted bush. But it didn't look like a regular rabbit, it looked like Bunnymund.

The jungle gym was red and white, little elves and presents scattered around it, and a picture of North on the top.

The teeter-totters were gold, with painted yellow sand swirling around the seats, and on the middle stand on each one with a picture of Sandman.

But the building in the middle of the park where the water fountains and bathrooms were located was better than the rest! It used to be an old grey concrete building, it was there, and they needed it, but no one liked the way it looked.

Now it was covered with huge portraits of the guardians. There was Jack Frost, his staff swinging around and a snow ball in one hand. The Tooth Fairy, a tooth in each hand, her wings beating tirelessly, and mini fairies around her, also holding teeth. Bunnymund, a boomerang in one hand, the other arm cradling eggs to his chest. North, swords draw, posing in all his Russian glory. And of course, Sandman, floating on a golden sandy cloud, laughing at his friends below him.

Any parts on the walls not taken up by guardians were taken up by yetis, elves, mini fairies, Christmas presents, walking eggs, swirling sand, snow, or teeth.

On the corner of the building, in black paint, was her signature. Callisto Acrylic.

Claude and Caleb ran to the playground, marveling at the paintings, while Jamie fell flat down on his butt, staring. "She's alive."

"I think you're right." Jamie looked up to see Jack, also staring at the playground, frowning. "She became a spirit, and she's got to be around here somewhere."

Jamie paused, "But, her name wasn't Callisto Acrylic."

Jack smiled down at Jamie, "Well, my name wasn't always Jack Frost. We all get a bit of a name change when we're chosen, looks like she got one too."

Jamie paused, "So, what was your name?"

"Jackson Overland Frost." Jack answered, swinging his staff up to his shoulder, resting it there. "Now, back to Callisto. You stay here, she's bound to return to watch kids marvel at her work, I know that's what I'd do. I'll try and spot her from the air. Remember, she probably looks a little different, but overall she should be the same. I mean, I didn't always have white hair and blue eyes."

Jamie nodded, "Got it. Do you think she'll remember me?"

Jack shrugged, "I don't know, I didn't have any of my memories when I turned out like this, but everyone else did. I don't know what made me so different."

Jamie put a comforting hand on Jack's arm, and then took off to the playground. Yeah, he wanted to find Callisto, but that was one flippin awesome playground. It wouldn't be so bad if… he just tried out the swing set, would it?

Jack flew to the top of the painted restroom building, looking around to try and see anyone resembling Callisto.

**WITH CALLISTO:**

I sat in the branches of a tree, watching the kids ran around, marveling at the paintings, and playing on the equipment. I heard one of the twins speak up, "Man, I can't believe Callisto Acrylic knows about the Guardians!

These kids knew about the Guardians? I dropped down from the tree, walking over to them, hoping they'd see me. "Uh, hi! I'm Callisto-"

They walked right through me. I gasped at the raw ache, before a voice snapped me out of it, "You get used to it."

I looked over my shoulder, staring into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. White hair, blue eyes, skin that was way to pale to be healthy, and no shoes. I knew this guy, I saw him when I died.

"… Who are you?"

He smiled at me, holding out his hand, "Jack Frost, Guardian."

I grinned, shaking his hand, "Callisto Acrylic."

He nodded, "So, you did all the paintings?"

I nodded, "Yeah, it's my talent."

He raised an eyebrow, so I held up my fingers, and he watched as red paint dripped form my pores. "Wow… that's awesome. So, that's how you make kids happy?"

I shrugged, "I guess, they seem to like it."

I gestured to the playground, all the kids running around, pretending to be guardians, and having fun.

Jack smiled, "Well, don't get me wrong, painting seems great and all, but-" He held up a snow ball, "How are you in a snowball fight?"

"Never been in one."

His eyes widened, "What?"

"I've never been in a snow ball fight."

He shook his head in disbelief, "That is a _disgrace_. Come on, we're teaching you!"

"Just us?" I asked, as he grabbed my arm and dragged me to the playground. "Doesn't a snow ball fight need more people?"

Jack grinned, "Hey, kids!"

Every single kid stopped playing, rushing over to Jack, "Jack! Come on, let's play Jack!"

He nodded, "We will, just hold on. I need you guys to do me a favor first. I have a friend with me, her name is Callisto Acrylic. I need you guys to believe in her."

They all nodded, and one by one, they all stared right at me. I looked up at Jack, "Can they… ?"

"See you?" Jack asked. "Let's find out. Snow ball fight!"

They all started grabbing snow balls, throwing them at each other, and me! I gasped as a snow ball hit my face, and a little kid tackled me to the ground, "I got her!"

I couldn't help the joy that surged through me, they could see me! I grabbed a snowball, and smashed it in the kid's face. They yelped, falling off me. I jumped up, grabbing another snow ball and nailing another kid in the face.

Around one hundred snow balls hit me at once, and I fell to the ground again. This was gonna be fun!


	6. Flesh And Blood

The kids had all gone home by now, except Jamie. He stayed the longest, playing with me and Jack. "Are you angry at me?"

I looked up at Jamie from me crouch in front of the teeter totter, repainting a chipped off portion. "Why would I be?"

Jamie's bottom lip quivered, "I got you killed."

I stood up, not wanting Jamie to cry, "Uh, hey! Don't blame yourself, I mean, come on Jamie, I'm the one who ran into the alley. If anything, you should be mad at me for getting you in danger."

"You told me to stay by the painting." He mumbled, grabbing onto my waist, and hugging me tightly.

"Ha, I should have known you wouldn't listen, God knows I didn't listen to anyone when I was your age." I chuckled.

Jack piped up, "Oh, you were a naughty list kid, weren't you?"

Jamie giggled at Jack, and I shrugged, "I got into my fair share of trouble."

What else can a kid do when their mother doesn't pay attention to them? They get into trouble, lots of trouble, just to get her attention. But they never do. So then high school comes along, and they realize that the world is full of dirt bags, and just because your mother is one too doesn't mean you have a right to cause trouble for other people.

So you put your energy into different things, you make friends, you try and get good grades, and you discover a talent. That talent gets you noticed, not by your mother, but by half the art schools in the country.

"I should be thanking you Jamie, remember, I told you that the biggest burden to being an artist, was not having enough time to paint everything in the world. Now, I have eternity."

Jamie stuck around a little while longer, and the went home when it got dark. Me and Jack just sat on top of the jungle gym, talking. "So, why do you paint?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Well, it comes out of my skin Jack, what else am I supposed to do with it?"

He laughed, "No, I mean before you turned into Callisto Acrylic. Why did you paint?"

I shrugged, "Well, I guess, to a kid that had nothing, painting something, it gave me hope. I couldn't go to the places I painted, but I could imagine I did. My head was always in the clouds, and I guess it was better than being down here."

Jack hummed, "So, you were a kid with nothing, huh? What about your family?"

"Dad was a no show for… well, my whole life, and Mom was drunk all the time. Her boyfriends came and went, I never really paid much attention to them." I explained. "Eventually I just got sick of feeling sorry for myself, and I moved out here to go to art school."

"Art is your passion then?" He asked, hooking his knees around a bar and then dangling from it, smiling up at me.

"Yeah, I spent more money on paint than I did on food." I laughed. "So, is snow your passion?"

"Having fun is my passion." He corrected, swinging back up to sit next to me. "That's me, I'm the Guardian of Fun."

"Guardian of Fun, huh?"

He nodded, "Yeah, fun, that's my center."

I raised an eyebrow, "Uh, center?"

"A center is the reason Manny picks you, you're one trait that stands out above the rest. For me, that's my ability to have fun. North, it's wonder. Easter Kangaroo, it's hope. Tooth, it's memories-"

"Wait, wait! Easter… Kangaroo?" I asked.

Jack laughed, "It's Bunny to you, or just call him Bunnymund. I'm the only one who calls him Kangaroo. Just like he's the only one who calls me frostbite."

I rolled my eyes, "Boys and their stupid macho bickering."

He smirked, and raised his staff up, shoving me in the chest with it. Ice shot all over my sweater, and it made me lean back, and dangle off of the jungle gym, the only thing keeping me from not falling were my knees, clenched tight around the bar I had been sitting on.

"Jack!" I snapped, pulling myself back up.

He laughed, "What's wrong, no sense of balance?"

I glared at him, "For your information, I have a great sense of balance." I brushed the frost off of my hoodie, "If I didn't, there's no way I could have survived three years of kick boxing."

He nodded, "A tough girl, huh?"

I looked away from him, towards the snow covered ground. "I wouldn't exactly say that…"

_A tough girl isn't still afraid of the boogey man._

Jack shrugged, "Whatever, I've got to go tell North that I was right about you. You did turn into a spirit after all. He's gonna wanna meet you eventually, and Tooth is going to be all over those teeth of yours."

"My teeth?"

"She's the Tooth fairy, teeth are kind of her thing."

"Oh, makes sense." I mumbled. "But if it's all the same to you, I don't want to meet them yet. I'm a bit anti-social, and eccentric people tend to freak me out."

He chuckled, "Fine by me, my little Frostie."

"What?"

Jack smirked, "Frostie. When I met the other guys for the first time, North was kind of like my mentor. He helped me out, showed me the ropes. I'm gonna do the same to you. I'm your mentor, and that makes you my little Frostie!"

I shook my head, "No. Nu uh. You aren't gonna call me that."

He sat on his staff, and floated into the air in front of me, giving me a wink, "Catch you later Spray Paint."

He took off, and I stared after him, raising an eyebrow, "The hell did he just call me?"

"Still have a foul mouth I see."

I felt a chill run through my body. No, it couldn't be! I wasn't asleep anymore. I would never sleep, ever again!

I looked over my shoulder, seeing Pitch standing at the edge of the playground, in the shadows of a tree. "P-pitch?"

He smiled, "Oh, you remember me."

_Of course I remember you! You tormented me and mauled my mind my entire life! It's because of you that I haven't had a good night's sleep in years, you jerk!_

That's what I wish I could say, but I can't. I'm to scared.

I stand up quickly, trying to run, but my feet slip on the bars, and I fall to the ground, hitting it hard. I gasp for breath, trying to get my wits about me. But it's no use, my head is spinning, and all I want to do is throw up.

"I am happy to see you again Callisto, I was afraid I had killed my last believer."

I got to my feet, and started backing up, "Leave me alone! I'm not asleep, you can't do anything to me."

He shook his head, "Oh, my dear, now that you're one of us, I can."

Black shadows shot out around him, weaving through the air like snakes, lashing out at me.

I did the only thing I could as they came at me, I lifted my hands up on an instinct, and braced for impact. They slammed into me, throwing me backwards into a tree. Pain shot through my body, every inch of my flesh feeling the pain. I dropped into the snow, gasping for air.

Pitch stood over me, "Oh, I'm afraid this isn't a dream Callisto. You can't simple bounce back. Although your newer form is much more… durable, you can still feel pain." He held up his hand, a trickle of black sand running through it, and he watched it intently, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "You can still…" His head whipped around to sneer at me, "Bleed."

The trickle of sand flew at my face like a knife, slashing and cutting and tearing. I screamed, rolling over onto my back and trying to brush it off, but the minute I tried to touch it, it just cut my hands to shreds.

Just as suddenly as the attack came on, it stopped. The black sand retreated back to Pitch, and he smirked as I curled up into a ball, trying to have some form of defense. I know it was pathetic, but I had learned from experience, you can't fight Pitch Black. Whatever he does to you, it doesn't last. Eventually, you wake up and it's all over. That's what I'll do now. I'm sleeping, all of this was a dream, I'll wake up soon, and Pitch will be gone.

"Such design!" Pitch exclaims, "Every part of you is simply art."

I had never heard something so creepy. But when I looked up to see if he was going to try anything, I understood what he meant. The warm liquid leaking from my face and hands, it wasn't blood. It was _paint_. The torn skin wasn't even skin, it was a canvas material.

All I was, all that I am, is a picture.

Paint a paper.

It's even in my name, Callisto _Acrylic_.

I don't have skin, I have canvas. I don't have blood, I have paint.


	7. Canvas And Paint

I panted, fear taking over as I watched my skin, which was definitely not skin anymore, knit back together, pulling the varying colors of pain back in. Red, blue, yellow, green, white, black, orange, purple, pink, every color I could name. My skin finally knit back together, leaving only a few dried paint smears on my hands. I reached up, trying to see if my head wound had done the same. Yes, there was no wound left, just dried paint.

I wasn't human. Not anymore.

I was… I was just a painting.

That's all I was.

That's why, when I looked into the window, my reflection, I was more colorful. My hair redder, my skin brighter, even my clothes had more color. Now I see why, I'm just a painting.

I looked back up at Pitch, my yellow eyes meeting his yellow eyes. I took a deep breath, standing up slowly. "You… you leave me alone. Forever!"

He laughed, "Oh my dear, why the devil would I ever do that?"

"Because I said so!" I snapped, taking half a step towards him. "I… I don't care about you, anymore Pitch! You've made my life a living hell since I was a kid, but this is where it ends."

He sneered at me, "And, why do you think I'll listen to you?"

"Because I'm not afraid of you anymore."

He threw his head back, laughing, "You're lying, you fear me now more than ever."

"No I don't, and you don't know anything about me-"

"I know everything about you!" Just like that, his mood did a complete 180, he was suddenly in front of me, glaring at me with yellow hell flames in his eyes, "I have been there your entire life, when no one else was. Your father left you, your mother left you, every friend you ever made left you."

"No, you're wrong! Jennifer didn't leave me-"

"And where is she now? Hmm?" He began to pace around me, and I followed him with my eyes, never trusting him. "Fully convinced you're dead, not even bothering to consider you might be alive."

"Why would she?" I snapped. "They have my _body_. Anyone would have-"

"Regardless of her excuses, she isn't here. You. Are. Alone."

"I have Jamie, and the other kids-"

"The children enjoy your company because of this," He gestured at the playground, "Colorful, despicable place you've created. The minute you stop doing this, they'll all fade away."

I locked my gaze with his, "It's a good thing that I'll never stop then."

He laughed again, "Callisto, you truly are to much. Do you honestly think I'm going to let this continue? I mean, you have such a talent to waste on things like a playground. The Man In The Moon did not send you down here to serve the Guardians."

"Oh yeah, how do you know that?" I snapped.

He gestured to me, "Your eyes. Look at Tooth and all her fairies, they all have purple eyes. North and Jack Frost, blue eyes. You and I…"

My eyes widened, and I touched my cheek below my eyes, "That… doesn't prove anything."

"Look at my nightmares, all yellow eyes. Now I see why you always believed in me, you were born to be my soldier." He concluded, holding out a hand to me, "Come with me, and never be alone again."

I felt a tear roll down my cheek, and as much as I didn't like to admit it, there was a small part of me tempted to accept the offer. Never be alone again? The kids were nice but they would grow up eventually. They'd stop believing one day. There was always Jack but I didn't know him very well, he has work to do, his own life.

Good thing the rest of my mind remembered all the hell Pitch Black put me through.

"No!" I screamed, "Now leave me alone!"

I flew into the air, flying away from him as fast as I could, which wasn't very fast. Jack flew faster than me, and I was a bit jealous at that, but I'm guessing it had to do with relevance. My powers didn't require fast flight, so I couldn't fly fast. My flying was meant for making huge paintings.

I flew and flew, until I came to my old apartment. I walked inside, Jennifer must have been at work by now. I took the knife from the kitchen counter, and walked into the bathroom.

The mirror showed yellow eyes.

If my eyes are what condemn me to be with Pitch, then I'll cut them out.

**WITH JACK:**

"Callisto?" North asked. "So she paints?"

I nodded, "Yep, my little frostie paints."

He raised an eyebrow, "Frostie?"

"It's her new nickname." I explained, "I'm Jack Frost, I'm teaching her the ways of being immortal, so she's my little frostie."

North chuckled, "Vell Jack, I see you have grown fond of her."

I shrugged, "She's cool. Kind of anti-social, but once she opens up a bit she's nice."

North nodded, "Let me check list, see if zis girl is Naughty or Nice!"

As North picked up a very long piece of paper with names scrawled all over it, I hovered above his shoulder. I crossed my fingers and whispered to myself, "Please let her be a fellow Naughty Lister, please let her be a fellow Naughty Lister…"

"Yep!" North said, pointing to her name, "She makes Naughty List."

I grinned, "So she's a bad girl?"

**WITH CALLISTO:**

I groaned, sinking to the floor as paint dribbled down my face and onto my clothes. Now matter how many times I tried, they just kept growing back! I'd cut them out, and they'd heal, still that same yellow color.

Was I doomed for what Pitch had said? Did I belong to him?

I looked at myself in the mirror, and wanted to scream at the sight. Paint was still running down my face, various colors, like tears. I grabbed a wad of toilet paper, and wiped it all away as best I could. My hair still had various streaks of paint in it, and my clothes are covered in it as well.

Maybe Pitch was wrong? I don't look like some scary monster! I just look like an underpaid artist.

I can't be bad like he is, I make paintings for kids. That's why the man in the moon brought me back, I make kids happy.

I decided to get out of the apartment, before my old roommate got home and saw the mess of paint and bits of canvas in the bathroom.

I found myself wandering down the street, just watching people, as they phased through me. Once night set in, I floated up to the top of the same abandoned motel I had been killed at. I stared up at the moon, and couldn't help but wonder if it would hear me.

"If… they're all telling the truth, and you brought me back… just to make kids happy then, fine. I'll do it. I mean, you gave me eternity to paint all I wanted. Wasn't that bad of a deal for me, I guess."

"Talking to him already?"

I looked over my shoulder, to see Jack Frost standing there, floating on top of his stick, all casual. "Uh, yeah."

Jack nodded, "I used to talk to him all the time. But now I have Jamie to talk to, and the other kids, and the guardians when we get together."

I nodded, "Must be pretty fun, having your powers."

He raised an eyebrow, "Why? I mean, I know I'm amazing, but-"

"Ego centric much?" I asked, rolling my eyes, "I just mean, well, when you fly, you're fast, like a bullet. But my flying, it's more like floating. And dude, you make ice. I make… paint."

Jack shrugged, "I guess not everyone can be as great as me, but you're pretty great too. I mean, all your pictures look _real_. I thought mirrors did me justice, until your drew me on that playground."

He dropped a few inches, touching the roof with his bare feet as he propped his staff up on his shoulder. "Really, it kind of creeps me out how spot on you got my amazingly good looks."

I shook my head, and let out a sigh. "Whatever Jack."

I floated off of the roof, and turned towards the wall of the building.

Jack peered over the side of the building, "What are you doing?"

I bit my lower lip gently, "Trying to figure out what to paint here."

Jack raised an eyebrow, "Got any ideas yet?"

I shook my head, "I don't chose, it just sort of... tells me what to paint."

"The wall tells you?"

"No." I said, spreading green paint over my fingers, and splashing it against the wall, "The paint does."

I could already tell, this painting was going to be _huge_. Pitch could wait until later to be worried about. This is what I was made to do, and I'm not going to let Pitch ruin another one of my lives. If he showed up again, he was in for one hell of a surprise. I might not be a huge fighter like North, or the Bunny, but I was not someone who let bullies push them around.


End file.
